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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/1300042-SuperNova-Afterglow-End-Of-Days/month/9-1-2016
Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #1300042
All that remains: here in my afterlife as a 'mainstream' blogger, with what little I know.
The Idiotic Ideate??

Formerly: New Zenith To Hell…(all started with arc as writer here from the trials of Rising Stars to Preferred Author to WDC Quills Best Poetry Collection to the falling action I feel now that settles in a white case.)
Got to hustle to preserve the best of me before fully fading on that virtual horizon glowing more brilliant with each passing day to permanent nuclear winter.

if people don’t get it, I don’t need to explain it.


We kill all that’s beautiful before we question it’s purpose. So many people find it easier to think in the black and the white. God forbid you get lost straying in the gray.

"Whoever fights monsters should see to it…he does not become a monster.”
I’ve been to the abyss and back. Not so bad.

The loneliest happy person you'd ever meet, when not the saddest person who needs to be alone.

In an ever-changing world, we need to handle topics at the ready. If you roll over and give in to the narrative without lending a voice of your own, you might as well hand over your civil liberties. We have voices that should connect to true conscience and spirit for honest and open discourse. Why feel so redacted?

Unify on issues and put drama aside. Open minds require complete objectivity. If none need apply, question the unbendable sources for answer. If you knee-jerk react to every issue lurking out there that clutches your neck, you fall victim to your own ignorance born from a life of apathy (no doubt) in pathetic cries of injustice.

Just writing what I feel without the narrative-altering mind f---ing with my head.

[MY Chorus]
In your house, I long to be
Room by room, patiently
I'll wait for you there, like a stone
I'll wait for you there, alone

"It amazed me how truth was often suffocated in minutes, but lies were given sufficient air to breathe indefinitely."


"You are all better than you think you are, you are just designed not to believe it when you hear it from yourself."


Merit Badge in Second Time Around Contest
[Click For More Info]

Congratulations on winning the Grand Overall Prize in  [Link To Item #2164876]  with your beautiful poem, [Link to Book Entry #933358]. This poem really moved me. Great writing!

Rachel *^*Heartv*^*

                   A signature image for use by anyone nominated for a Quill in 2018                    

"...lasting art is never anything more than a mathematical expression of the relations that exist between the internal and the external, the self [le moi] and the world." -Jean Metzinger

I'm in love with carefully chosen words, arranged just so, audible, edible, to inhale. I attempt to post new poems and epiphanies daily with some links to what inspires.

I am legally blind with a rare, genetic form of glaucoma. I'm described as "end stage" after two successful surgeries, still subject to further vision loss. Cataracts complicating matters. Writing Can get strenuous but seldom deters what yearns to emerge, despite a documented history of depression and recently diagnosed ADHD and undefinable social disorders and/or PTSD.

My recent poetry:

BOOK
Life’s Little Misdirections 🥀🦋  (18+)
10k views, 2x BestPoetryCollection. A nothing from nowhere cast words to a world wide wind
#1149750 by He’s Brian K Compton


Sometimes epiphanies about my insights on writing and life and what goes on...

Making sense of life is maddening. Why do I need to know, when truth may not actually exist? Learning to accept would be a better pursuit? Flailing about in my own mediocrity, hoping to bust out.

I am visible. You can put a face with a name. I would like to see other writers, too. Fiction is what you write, not who you are.

Reinventing myself. I couldn't continue on the path I was on and needed a fresh start. This time around I want to put the focus on writing and the world outside of this community as it affects my life.

I realize now that I have been baring my chest a bit more, as when young. fake me much more boring and unliberated than the real me.

A world arriving as silent as that blossom in your garden that I told you about...
September 17, 2016 at 11:47pm
September 17, 2016 at 11:47pm
#892435
Harmonize...

I don't know where the lyric should begin
Jump right in?
Forsake perfection?
What if I don't know how
The song should end?

What if I'm off key?
Too many questions from one
Whose squandered opportunity
I see you turn away
I need your eyes

I don't know how the lyric should start
With you in my heart
I want you near
I want you to hear
Trouble finding this beauty within

Is this the day?
Are the words I long to speak
On the way?
As my voice trails off
Need to think some more

Stall...

I don't know why the lyric should end
Dreams so close to touch
If I could see the stars
And me in your misty eyes
Are they for me, because I...?

Stall...

You take your seat
I'll stake mine, hold your hand
Try to find what's in my heart
This very last time.
The music rises, curtains up.



You can see...
He sets the bar too high:

September 16, 2016 at 11:04am
September 16, 2016 at 11:04am
#892347
Attention to punctuation and form later...




Your glass top world,
My cage,
Where I plot my escape
To seek immortality
Where you hide.
I want to be inside.

So beautifully made up,
Willfully I suspend
Disbelief
That you won't be with me.
I glimpse the reflection
In the glass
Ugly, attentive viewer,
But my eyes
Won't lie to myself
Anymore

The dream is dying.
Too old, too worn down
To absorb these images
Once as beautiful as my own
In cracked, fading photographs.

You still sing to me.
My ears deceive, too.
But, I'm learning
Experience is about the past
There can be no fairytales
When beginnings are just endings
Of what we seek.

It's been so long,
I don't know what I seek
Anymore?
Is it you, or
Who I used to be
Filled with as yet
Unrealized potential?

Your glass top reality
Could be even more saddening.
I don't know why I pine.
It may mean I am near
The end of my time
And we never danced,
Truth and immortality.

Sing me another song?
Shed a tear
So I know
We share the same vision
Together in eternity.



We're all alone (together) while dying, amid a sea of unrequited love washing away our memories.
September 3, 2016 at 11:30pm
September 3, 2016 at 11:30pm
#891471
I'm blessed to be a member of Writing.com and to be able to share my words. This time of year, with the big birthday celebration, there is so much going on. I really want to dive in. But, everytime I get the notion I draw a blank. So much has changed since I started at this website and yet it's the same. So, maybe it's just me. I don't know. I can't bring myself to answer emails on time. I look at events going on but I just don't know what to do. I stopped posting in my notebook. I just don't know what to say. I'm drifting.

I think writing is beyond me now. Just want to sit on the front porch rocker, observe some sunrises and sunsets. I yearn for a still day where I can hear my own thoughts and reminisce when I had high hopes. I'll keep checking in.


9.3.16
September 2, 2016 at 12:07pm
September 2, 2016 at 12:07pm
#891366

In The Supple Green

Stoic, you tower --
ignoring me?
I lay awkward,
spine exposed,
wither in the wet/warm
supple green.
Others cast off, away
from your love.
Shuddering divers
flat fall to an armless mother
who mindless comforts all.

Why don't you need me anymore?
Why am I to die among these strangers,
my supposed kin?
Why aren't they questioning purpose,
fearing wicked, playful air
whirling us further away
from your sheltering, inattentive love?

Be faithful? Hold on?
Where are the promises to materialize,
lift me higher, nearer to you?
I fear I will bleed
into this fertile woman
who melts me, destroys me
with her strange need to feed you,
so offspring might dutifully
unfurl, nestle in your branches.
They too will fall,
only to repeat my mistakes.

Cycle of death, your vigor,
breathes life into something I'm not a part.
Just stay in the moment.
Don't think. Trust this
blood-sucking woman
to unhusk your essence,
fondly remember youth and ignorance,
while you cling to life
believing in purpose.



relate to the fallen leaf, questioning my purpose while dying


9.12.16

Original:

(Punctuation and form need work...)


Stoicly, you stand above me --
Ignoring me?
I lay awkwardly,
my spine exposed,
withering in the wet/warm
supple green.
Others cast off, away
from your love.
Shuddering divers
flat fall to an armless mother
who mindlessly sits with us all.

Why don't you need me anymore?
Why am I dying among these strangers,
my supposed kin?
Why aren't they questioning purpose,
fear the wickedly playful air
whirling us further away
from your sheltering, inattentive love?

Be faithful?
Hold on?
Where are the promises to materialize,
lift me higher, nearer to you?
I fear I will bleed
into this fertile woman
who melts me, destroys me
with her strange need to feed you
that the offspring might dutifully
unfurl, nestle in your branches.
They too will fall,
only to repeat my mistakes.

Cycle of death, your vigor,
breathes life into something I'm not a part.
Just stay in the moment.
Don't think. Trust this
blood-sucking woman
to husk your essence,
fondly remember youth and ignorance,
when you thought
you had it all.



9.2.16


relate to the fallen leaf, questioning my purpose while dying


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He’s Brian K Compton has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/item_id/1300042-SuperNova-Afterglow-End-Of-Days/month/9-1-2016